


Reunion

by Roselightfairy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Good Dudley Dursley, Ignore any plot implausibilities, Just enjoy the satisfaction, The Dursleys get a talking-to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roselightfairy/pseuds/Roselightfairy
Summary: What happens when Harry sees the Dursleys again, able to legally perform magic and just after his defeat of Voldemort?





	1. Chapter 1

_Tap, tap, tap._

Hestia Jones was drumming her fingers on the table – something she did whenever she was worried or upset – and it was driving Dudley crazy.

Much to his parents’ chagrin, Dudley _liked_ Hestia – she was, he thought, exactly the kind of person you’d want to be with if you really did have to go into hiding for an indefinite period of time.   Chronically cheerful, but with a witty, sarcastic sense of humor and a fondness for bad jokes which had been the icebreaker between her and Dudley.  Even his parents couldn’t help liking her, and that, Dudley reflected wryly, was a real sign of charisma.

And Dedalus.  Well, you couldn’t help but like Dedalus, unless you were Vernon or Petunia Dursley.  The excitable little man had gotten on Dudley’s parents’ bad side on day one, when he insisted on fiddling with all the “little dials and knobs” inside Vernon’s company car while Vernon was attempting to drive, and accidentally getting the windshield wipers stuck on “on” for the rest of the drive.  But Dudley liked him, too.  He refused to be intimidated, even by Vernon and Petunia, and though he could be irritating at times he could also be very helpful.  And he was Hestia’s best audience, too, for her jokes.

All in all, Dudley realized, the two of them were the perfect people to balance out his parents’ general unpleasantness towards life in general. And Dudley was attempting to reform himself from that unpleasantness as well – but if Hestia didn’t stop tapping her fingers he might just have to strangle her.  It had been hours she’d been sitting there, staring at the old-fashioned wireless radio in the middle of the table, waiting for it to blare on.

She’d introduced them to the program _Potterwatch_ over the year, and she and Dedalus listened to it obsessively, whenever it was on.  Vernon and Petunia had huffed out of the room the first time they’d turned it on, but Dudley stayed.  He liked listening.  He had decided that the Wizarding world was actually pretty interesting – and he wanted to find out more about his cousin’s whereabouts.  It had even gotten to the point where he started being afraid for the witches and wizards he had never met, and his heart jumped into his throat every time he heard Harry’s name.

He’d resolved to apologize to Harry for the hell he’d put him through as soon as he got out of hiding, but Hestia pointed out that he could only do that if Harry was still alive.  This thought still haunted Dudley.  At least he’d begun to make amends, he tried to console himself, but it didn’t work very well.

A few hours ago, they’d gotten an emergency broadcast on the radio, saying that all members of the Order of the Phoenix were to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as soon as possible, where apparently Voldemort was preparing to attack.  Hestia and Dedalus had both wanted to go, but then they had realized that one of them should stay behind with the Dursleys.  So Dedalus had Disapparated – it was still an odd sight to watch him simply disappear into thin air, even though Dudley had already done it with him twice – to go to Hogwarts, leaving Hestia here, sitting where she had been for the last several hours, staring at the radio and _drumming her fingers on the table_.

“Hestia” – began Dudley.

The chair landed on the floor with a clatter, and she was standing in front of him with her wand jammed into his throat and a wild look in her eyes before he had even seen her move.  When she noticed it was him, she relaxed and withdrew her wand.

“Sorry Dudley,” she said, a bit embarrassedly.  “It’s just . . . I didn’t know you were still up, and I thought maybe Death Eaters” –

Before Dudley could reassure her that he understood, there was a thumping, and his parents came rushing down the stairs, apparently having heard the chair crash to the floor.  When they saw Hestia and Dudley standing nose to nose in the dining room, one of Hestia’s hands still on her wand, and a chair on the floor, Vernon bellowed, “What the _hell?_ ” at the same time Petunia shrieked, “What are you doing to my Dudders?”

Hestia smirked, the way she did whenever Petunia called Dudley one of her ridiculous names, and Dudley was inclined to agree with her.  “Really, Mum,” he sighed.  “Nothing happened.  I just startled her, that’s all.”

“Well, keep it down,” grumbled Vernon.  “We’re trying to sleep,” and they turned around and retreated back up the stairs.

Hestia rolled her eyes after them, muttering something like, “ _How_ they can sleep when the fate of the _world_ . . .” but Dudley cut her off.

“They don’t get it, Hestia,” he said.  “I try to get it, but even I don’t see the picture the way you do.  We’ve grown up with Harry as the waste of space, remember?” He cringed as he said those words, remembering how she had looked at them on that farewell scene.  Anger, shock, and even disgust.  Looking back, he even had to agree with her.

She sighed deeply, and righted the chair.  “I’m sorry, Dudley,” she said, looking as though she was trying to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.  “I’m just so jumpy . . . I mean, this battle could very well be it.  And if they get Harry . . .” Her voice faltered and died.

Suddenly he got it.  How important this battle was.  If they lost it, he would never be able to come out of hiding.  He would never see his cousin again.  He would never be able to see any of this new world about which he had become so curious.  Suddenly, he couldn’t blame Hestia for tapping her fingers.

He pulled out another chair and joined her vigil, staring at the radio.

They were up all night, staring out the window at the night sky.  Their safe house was a lonely place, no one else nearby, to make it harder for the Death Eaters to find them, and so far it had worked.  But no streetlights and no signs meant that nights were very, very dark, nothing to see but the stars and faint shadows outside.

They sat there, saying nothing, until the sky grew gray, then pink, and then there was a sunrise, a brilliant flash of gold, and at the same time a loud CRACK appeared outside their house.

Hestia drew her wand and pressed her eye to the keyhole – and then groaned in relief.  Dudley peeked out as well – a tired-looking Dedalus, covered in (Dudley’s heart gave a jump) blood, was striding up their driveway.

Hestia called outside, “When did you first meet Harry Potter?”

“When he was only a child,” he replied, “and I saw him in a Muggle shop.  But there’s no need for the questions anymore, Hestia! We’ve won! We’ve _won!_ ”

Hestia’s breath caught – she gasped, then shrieked, a wordless cry filled with joy, wrenching open the door.  “Won?” she said breathlessly, “ _won?_ ”

“Yes!” Dedalus cried, throwing his hat into the air, “heavy losses, but we won, Harry did it, he’s finished, he’s finished at last!”

Relief filled Dudley, a relief so profound he hadn’t known he was capable of it in the first place, and he dashed outside and jumped up and down.  Hestia caught Dedalus in a fierce hug, and then Dudley, and then all three were hugging and jumping and screaming, and tears were streaming down Hestia’s face, and then Dudley’s parents were storming down the stairs again.

Vernon’s face was his signature purple, he opened his mouth to say something, but Dedalus cut him off by running and embracing him, too.  “This is the second time I’ve done this,” he cried, “but this time it is real hope, not false – he is gone, he is gone at last, your nephew finished him, and now you can come out of hiding – oh, you should be so proud!”

A look of disgust on his face, Vernon waited for the man to release him, and as soon as Dedalus did, muttered, “ _Freaks_ ,” under his breath, and then realized something.  “You mean – you mean we can go back?” he stammered.  Dudley had never heard his father stammer like that, only spluttering in rage.  He was rather impressed with Dedalus. And Harry, for being the main cause.

“Yes!” cried Dedalus, throwing his arms in the air, “yes, a thousand times yes!”  And he hugged Hestia again, who was still sobbing.

“Finished,” she kept murmuring, “really finished . . .”

“Can we see Harry?” asked Dudley.

His parents stared at him, shocked.  He had never really mentioned his desire to change to them, nor his newfound respect for the cousin he had once tormented.  The cousin who had saved his life, even after Dudley had brought up (what he had learned from Hestia and Dedalus) what was possibly the worst experience of Harry’s life at that point.  He had no hatred for Harry.  He had no scorn for Harry.  He had respect, and a desire to see him, and a hope that Harry would let him change.

“Certainly,” said Hestia, the first one to talk.  “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

That spell always made Dudley shudder – it reminded him of the worst experience of _his_ life.  A silvery cheetah soared from Hestia’s wandtip, and Hestia spoke to it quietly for a moment.  It nodded, and then disappeared.

Moments later, a silver stag appeared in the yard – Vernon and Petunia were still staring in shock, and hadn’t spoken a single word yet – and spoke in Harry’s voice.

“On my way.”


	2. Chapter 2

CRACK.

Dudley blinked.  Instead of seeing the familiar tall, thin figure of his cousin landing before him, three figures had materialized on the lawn, all holding hands.  Side-Along Apparition, Dedalus had explained to him.  He barely recognized Harry under the streaks of blood and dirt marring his face, and the other boy looked just a little bit familiar – something about that red hair – but he’d never seen the girl before.

All three of them were very thin – unnaturally so – with long, messy hair, and the boys were unshaven and wearing ripped clothes, as though they hadn’t eaten well or been cared for properly in months – and Dudley realized that they hadn’t.  There were odd tracks through the dirt on their faces, and Dudley realized after awhile that they had been left by tears – but all three were dry-eyed.

Petunia shuddered.  Some might say it was the sight of her nephew, who she’d never expected to see again – and it probably was that, too – but Dudley knew his mother well enough to know it was probably the dirt.  She couldn’t abide to have something so filthy near her.  Vernon was simply staring in disgust.

Dudley ignored them, and with some trepidation he looked at Harry.  Their eyes locked, and Dudley almost gasped.  The eyes were the same bright green they had always been, but they were different.  Haunted, somehow, as though Harry had seen things Dudley would never understand, experienced horrors Dudley couldn’t even imagine.  He shuddered vicariously.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, and his voice cracked.  He cleared his throat, and the girl squeezed his hand reassuringly.  His girlfriend? Dudley wondered.

“Hey, Big D.”

Harry’s voice was hoarse and raspy.  He let go of the girl’s hand and moved toward Dudley.  With some trepidation, Dudley walked forward to meet him.  They shook hands.  “Hey, Harry.”  He glanced back at Hestia; she nodded reassuringly.

“I remember you.”  That was the redhead; his voice, too, was raspy, but even less friendly than Harry’s.  Dudley could have sworn he saw his hand drift toward his pocket, but the girl grabbed it.

“ _Ron,_ ” she hissed warningly, and turned toward Dudley as well.  He had let go of Harry’s hand, and she reached out for his.  “Hello, Dudley,” she said.  “I’m Hermione.”

“Hi,” muttered Dudley, a bit embarrassed.  This was more awkward than he’d imagined that it would be.  He turned to the redhead – Ron.  “I remember you, too.”  He’d finally pinpointed it – the boy had been there when his father destroyed the Dursleys’ entire living room.  Dudley nearly smiled at the memory of his father’s face, but then remembered his tongue and stopped smiling.

It seemed that Ron was remembering it, too, because he was now grinning broadly.  Harry stepped back from Dudley and rejoined the other two.  “When you came to get me with Floo Powder?” he asked.  Even he was starting to smile – but it looked exhausted and weak on his face.  “And Fred dropped” – He broke off suddenly.

Ron’s face had turned to stone, and Hermione’s eyes were welling up.

Hestia had noticed this.  She walked forward and took Hermione’s arm.  “Fred?” she asked softly.  “Fred _Weasley?_ ”

Ron’s lips were pressed tightly together.  He nodded.

“Heavy losses,” said Dedalus – even he had sobered up.  He had taken off his hat and was now twisting it between his fingers.  “Heavy . . .” His voice trailed off.

Dudley felt his numb brain starting to catch up.  “You mean the one who dropped the candy . . .” He, too, let his voice break off.  Harry nodded.  Dudley tried to start again.  “He . . . ?”

“Yes,” whispered Hermione, very, very quietly.  “In the battle.”

“Is George . . . ?” This came from Hestia again.

Ron just shook his head.

“I’ll go,” she said.  “I want to see the Order again – it’s been too long.  And I want to see . . .” her voice cracked.  “. . . Fred.  It was lovely to meet you, Dudley.  And you, too,” she added carelessly to Vernon and Petunia.  “We’ll have to see each other again sometime soon.”  And with that being said, she had turned on the spot and Disapparated.

Dudley, still in shock, finally remembered the reason he’d wanted to see Harry in the first place.  “Harry,” he said, and then stopped, searching for the right words.

Harry turned towards him again, his green eyes overly bright, but his face composed.  “Yeah?”

“I wanted to say . . .” Dudley’s tongue felt too thick to get the words out.  Finally, he decided to just say them.  “I’m sorry.”

Harry looked at him for a long time.  Dudley felt like the green eyes were analyzing him, looking right through his own eyes as though to see if he was telling the truth.  He tried to show his sincerity on his face.

Harry didn’t say anything.  He just nodded, but Dudley looked at him, and thought he could see the forgiveness he didn’t deserve on the bloody face.

Hermione was now smiling, a weak, watery smile.  She grabbed Harry’s hand again, and said to Dudley, “Thank you.”

Ron was still looking at him, but even he eventually seemed to relax.  He nodded, as well, gripping Hermione’s hand tighter.  He hadn’t let go of it.

Dudley felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.  “So, boy,” he said, glaring at Harry, “we won’t be having any more trouble from your lot anymore, will we?  You won’t be coming back.”

He said the last as a statement, not a question, and Dudley felt a flood of embarrassment well up inside him at his father.  He tugged free of Vernon’s grip, and looked at Harry again, whose eyes were colder than Dudley had ever seen them.  Ron snarled, and pulled out his wand, and Hermione didn’t stop him this time.  In contrast to Harry’s, her eyes were burning with rage – Dudley could almost feel the heat of the flames.  Ron seemed to notice this and put his wand away.  Apparently, this girl was a force to be reckoned with.

“It’s fine,” said Harry quietly, but Hermione didn’t calm down.  She didn’t move, but Dudley felt sure that he did not want to see what she would do if she did.

Harry had not looked away from Vernon.  Finally he spoke, and his voice was as icy as his eyes.

“Do you know what I’ve seen?” he asked.  “Any of you?  Have you ever seen a friend die right in front of your eyes and known you could do nothing to stop it?  Have you ever lost a family member – someone you actually cared about,” he added, glaring at Petunia, contempt hardening his face.  This was a side of Harry Dudley had never seen.  “Have you ever had to stare death in the face, not being able to turn away, knowing it was the only thing left for you?”  Ron’s and Hermione’s faces filled with pain, and they both closed in tighter around Harry.  Dudley felt ice feel his veins.  He had had to do that?  Had actually almost . . . died?

“Have you ever felt alone in the world?” Harry continued.  “Alone, with nothing and no one there for you?  Have you ever had to watch people die – die for you – and not be able to save them?”

Shame filled Dudley.  How had Harry deserved this?  How had he been so brave – been able to grow up into a _good_ person – with only Dudley and his parents as role models?  He wanted to apologize, once again, wanted to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness, but Harry was still talking.

“No,” he said, quiet, deadly.  “You never have.  You know nothing.  You understand nothing.”

He paused, drew his wand, and twirled it between his fingers absently.  Dudley flinched – years of habit did not die easily – but Harry was not looking at him.  He was still staring at Vernon and Petunia.

“I’m of age,” he said.  “Seventeen.  I’m an adult now.  No Trace.  I could do anything to you, and the Ministry wouldn’t catch me.”

“Not,” interrupted Hermione, “that they would punish him if they did.  The Minister is a close friend of ours.  He knows what you’ve done.  And Harry’s just saved our whole world – and yours, too, even if you don’t know it.  They’ll probably give him a medal.  They’d never punish him for this.”

“Hermione!” interjected Ron, surprised, “are you speaking in favor of breaking the law?”

But the look she gave him silenced him, and Dudley cowered.  “And even if he didn’t,” she continued, just as deadly as Harry’s voice had sounded earlier, “I’m more than capable of doing it myself.”

Ron’s face looked frightened for a fleeting instant, before it was replaced by the same glare as all the others.  Finally, Harry interrupted.

“But she doesn’t need to,” he said.  “I don’t need to.”

Dudley cast a glance at his parents – they seemed to have shrunk, pure terror on their faces, and on his mother’s, mixed with the terror – recognition?

“I won’t see you again,” continued Harry.  “I won’t bother you again, won’t darken your doorstep one more time.  You can continue your perfect, normal lives with no more interference from _our lot_.”

Dedalus hadn’t said anything in awhile, Dudley realized, but as he turned around he saw the small man gazing at Harry in awe.

“Petunia,” said Harry, turning to face her.  “I know the story.”

She tried to squeak out a “I don’t know what you’re talking about” but her face was rapidly darkening from pale with fear to burning red.

“I know about Severus,” continued Harry.  “I know you didn’t think my mother was a freak.  I know you were . . .” he paused and let the word hang on the air . . . “jealous.

“What I don’t know, though, is why you never forgave her.  Or me.”  His eyes were burning now, in contrast to the ice they had been before.  “Why you never spoke about her, even after she died.  Why you never cared.”

His gaze pierced her for a few more seconds, but then he turned away, and his face and voice were calmer, politer.  “Dudley,” he said, “if you really want to, you’re free to keep in contact.  Shall I get in touch with you in a few days?”

Still speechless, Dudley nodded.  No one had ever talked to his parents like that.  But he couldn’t deny . . . he swallowed . . . he couldn’t deny that they deserved it.

“All right,” Harry said.  “I’ll send you a message.  Come on, you two.”  He took Ron and Hermione’s hands.

“It was nice to meet you, Dudley,” said Hermione quietly, and then she turned on the spot and with a loud CRACK, the three vanished.

Dudley’s parents were still riveted to the spot, pale with fear.  Even Vernon couldn’t say a word.

Finally, Petunia’s eyes focused on the point where the three had disappeared.  She pressed a shaking hand to her lips.  “ _Lily,_ ” she whispered.

Dudley took a deep breath.  That had been scary.  But then he realized . . . Harry had promised to get in touch with him.  Harry had _forgiven_ him!

He felt a smile spreading over his face.  Turning to Dedalus, he asked, “So . . . can we go home?”

“Yes,” Dedalus responded, with the same exuberant smile as before, as though the scene had not just happened.  “Yes, you can.”

 


End file.
